1958 – breakfast at tiffany’s ~ truman capote

“‘Give me an example,’ I said quietly. ‘of something that means something. In your opinion.’

Wuthering Heights,’ [Holly] said, without hesitation.

(…)

‘But that’s unreasonable. You’re talking about a work of genius.’

‘It was, wasn’t it? My wild, sweet Cathy. God, I cried buckets. I saw it ten times.’

I said ‘Oh’ with recognisable relief, ‘oh’ with a shameful, rising inflection, ‘the movie.’

I couldn’t help but smile to myself when I read this passage, taken from page 59 of Truman Capote’s 1958 novella, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It’s the echo of a conversation I’ve had myself whenever I’ve mentioned that I’m reviewing Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Oh, I loved that film! Audrey Hepburn was perfect as Holly, wasn’t she?

…And then I have to tell the person I’m speaking with that I’m talking about the book, and I’ve never actually seen Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the film.

…And then, my interlocutor looks at me as if there’s something drastically wrong with me.

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1949 – the sheltering sky ~ paul bowles

There are times when I feel rather like an obnoxious tourist in the land of literature, slowly learning the ways of the traveller.

Over the past year (and a half!) I’ve discovered books I wouldn’t previously have considered reading; books by authors I hadn’t heard of this time two years ago. I’ve revisited familiar stories, still warm with memories of my childhood. I’ve found new favourites that sit comfortably at the very core of my being, curled up like contented cats…

For me, reading has become an adventure. I never really know what’s going to happen next. It’s actually quite thrilling.

I’m completely aware that I’m not exactly doing this whole “life” thing terribly well. But reading these books, writing these words, makes me feel as if I might just be doing something right.

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1948 – the harp in the south ~ ruth park

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

I was about halfway through Paul Bowles’ The Sheltering Sky when I realised what that little nagging voice in the back of my thoughts had been trying to tell me all week:

I was reading the wrong book.

The Sheltering Sky was published in 1949. I should have been reading Ruth Park’s The Harp in the South, published in 1948. Oops?

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1925 – the great gatsby ~ f. scott fitzgerald

Oh no. Not again.

I’ve found another author I adore. Which means, naturally, that I want to read everything else he’s ever written…

(sigh)

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